


Made For Loving You

by Redhead_Maniac



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, The Boondock Saints RPF
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, a lot of swearing, no, really - Freeform, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redhead_Maniac/pseuds/Redhead_Maniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean decides to drop by over the weekend, without giving Reedus a prior notice, and who cares if they haven't seen each other in seven months?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made For Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> I. Am. So. Sorry. I have been having MAJOR Flandus feels, and then I stumbled upon a cover-song by Watcha - "I Was Made For Loving You". And this. This happened. My teeth hurt now, I've probably fucked up somewhere, BUT WHO CARES I GOT MY FLANDUS FEELS OUTLET.  
> Un-betaed. Didn't even read through a second time.  
> Now just let me go into a corner and die peacefully cause I still CAN'T. Look what these two idiots have done to me! Gah!

The doorbell rings at 7:04 PM, instantly setting Norman on edge, because he wasn't expecting anyone.

He contemplates throwing on a shirt, but it's too much of a task to find one in the mess which is his bedroom, so he shrugs and forgoes the appropriate attire, walking towards the hall in a pair of his favourite old tattered jeans. It's probably someone he knows anyway, since the intercom didn't go off — means the security knows the person enough to let them through.

He twists the lock, about to open his mouth, when all higher-mind processes halt and he's standing there like a fool, mouth agape and eyes widened in shock.

"I swear the motherfuckin' cab driver took me all over New York before fuckin' _finally_  getting your address right! Dude, why does it have to be so hard?!" Sean's boisterous voice shutters the mindfuck Norman's currently in.

"Sean! What the fuck, man?! The hell are you doin' here?!" Norman stutters, taking a step back to let the man past his threshold.

Sean tilts his head, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and shrugging in the most casual manner.

"Had the weekend free, decided to drop by. That a problem?"

"Fuck no!" Finally seeming to get over the initial shock of seeing Sean fucking Flanery at his doorstep at seven fucking PM on a regular Friday, Norman grabs the man by the hand and pulls him in.

"You couldn't have called, idiot?" Norman is just pretending to be annoyed, but they both know that game. Reedus is grinning like a fucking kid on Christmas morning.

"Nah. Figured I'd surprise ya instead," Sean leans in to drop a quick kiss on Norman's lips, and the man lets out an unamused snort.

"What if I weren't home, genius?"

"Ah!" Sean points a finger in the air. "That's what I have lil' Mingus' number for!"

"...you ganged up on me with my kid."

"Yep!"

"You bastard!" Norman is shaking from laughter, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand because apparently this is too much — seeing Sean after seven months of strictly digital contact and learning that his fucking  _kid_  is partly responsible for that.

"We just gonna stand here all day?" Sean quirks an inquiring eyebrow, popping his gum, his  _pink_  gum, and Norman is  _so_  done with him.

"Come on in, brother, and welcome to my humble abode!" Norman does the proper gesture too — swipes out his hand, presenting the brightly-lit hallway with a few pictures and photos hanging on the walls.

Sean clicks his tongue, "My, my... Can't go anywhere without your stupid photographs, eh?"

Norman knows Sean is referring to to the Vicious photo hanging in the frame. Flanery doesn't understand his fascination with the punk bassist — actually, he doesn't understand the point of having  _any_  celebrities pictures hanging on the walls.

"Nope," the grin comes naturally as Norman turns his back on Sean and leads him into the depth of his new — to Sean, at least — apartment.

Flanery whistles as he drops his bag by the couch, "Sweet, man! I like it."

"Wait till you see the bed," smirks Norman, and Sean lets out a low chuckle.

It feels like Sean's always been here, in this flat. As if there weren't seven months of separation.

"Oi, Reedenstein!"

Norman turns around, humming in question.

"Got anything to eat? Hungry as a wolf."

Norman scratches his head, a sheepish grin on his face, "Um..we can order takeout?"

Sean curls his nose at that, and Norman feels momentarily embarrassed, until he remembers that the fucker didn't warn him about his visit. So it's his own damn fault.

Seeing the look on Norman's face, Sean rolls his eyes, "Fine, fine, don't start throwing a hissy fit."

"I fucking do not throw 'hissy fits', you motherfucker!"

Sean carelessly waves his hand, as if to say 'sure, sure'.

They end up eating chinese, chatting about everything and nothing at once. The routine of talking to each other takes all of three seconds to set in, as if they didn't just greet each other five minutes ago.

The warm familiarity seeps into Norman's bones, his natural laugh coming out at every stupid thing Flanery says, and fuck, he's missed the man.

After dinner and a couple of beers they forgo the social tango, because that's not how they click.

The way they click? 

Sean getting up from the chair and crossing the brief distance between them in two strides, grabbing Reedus by the nape of his neck and giving him a hard, long kiss.

From there it's a string of clothes (mostly Sean's, Norman is till clad only in a pair of jeans) across the living room, ending at the threshold of Norman's bedroom. They can't feel each other's bare skin soon enough.

It's a tangle of hands, legs and tongues, a rollercoaster of hectic heartbeats and a sheen of sweat as soon as they hit the bed, Norman falling backwards and dragging Sean down with him.

They're not new lovers, have been together for fifteen years, and the time apart hasn't alienated either to the other's touch. They know just where to grasp, pull, bite and suck. Sean knows that Reedus enjoys when he grasps a tuft of his dark hair and pulls just deliciously so, on the verge of pain. Norman knows that Sean goes into a frenzy when he strokes his lean sides.

Sean peppers Norman's face with small kisses, whispering heated, nonsensical bullshit, and Norman grins like a fool, toes curling as he grasps Sean's strong shoulders and tells him to shut the fuck up and  _work for once_.

The patience runs thin, and this isn't the moment for tender, strung-out loving. This moment is for blinding, scalding, brutal coupling.

The moment Sean bottoms out, Norman clutches at him with hands and thighs, groaning into the quietness of the apartment and uncaring if any neighbours complain come morning. He eggs Sean on, swearing a blue streak, and Sean really can't coordinate laughing and breathing and fucking at the same time.

When they come, everything crushes down in stillness, the time seemingly frozen, wrapping them in a warm cocoon. 

"Fuck."

"That, we just did," Sean's breathless, his voice hoarse, and Norman hits him on the shoulder, head thrown back onto a pillow and heavy-lidded eyes closed.

"I fucking missed that."

"And here I thought you missed me, ouch!" Sean manages a snort, hiding his nose in Norman's slick skin, between his neck and shoulder.

"That too," hums Norman, absentmindedly stroking through Sean's damp hair.

"Shower?"

"Fuck that. You get twenty minutes, then it's round two."

  
  
The next morning, Sean is greeted by a grumpy, somebody-fucked-me-through-the-bed-last-night looking Norman in a pair of bunny slippers and black drawstring pants.

He smirks, turning over a pancake, and gestures towards the table, "Morning, sleeping beauty!"

"Shuttup, 's too early," Norman rubs at his eyes, stifling a loud yawn, and plops onto the nearest chair at the dining table. "At what ungodly hour did you creep outta bed, huh?"

Sean puts a mug of black coffee in front of Reedus, making the latter snort — of course it had to be the mug with Sean's photo printed on it.

"Six. Went down to the grocery store," going back towards the stove to turn it off, Sean adds, "By the way, I think something died in your fridge. So I took the liberty to throw all that shit out."

Norman rolls his eyes and begins to sip on his coffee, each take slowly returning him to the land of the living.

It's a pleasant silence, Sean setting the plates and joining Reedus at the table.

After a few minutes of chewing on the delicious pancakes Sean has learnt to bribe him with, Norman speaks up, "How often you've been calling my kid behind my back, huh?" There's no anger in his voice, just genuine surprise.

Sean squints his blue eyes, the crows feet making Norman fall in love with him all over again.

"Oh, just a ring here and there. Why, you jealous?"

"Not at all man," swallowing down his food, Reedus adds, "So I assume you know Helena is here."

Sean nods.

"What do you think if we hang out with Mingus, just the three of us? Tomorrow?" There's carefully constructed hope in Norman's voice, and Sean knows where it's coming from.

"Reedenstein, you know I love the kid just as much as I love you, right?"

Norman gives a tentative nod, looking at the swirls in his coffee from where he's disturbed it with a spoon.

"And anyway, I think it'd be a good distraction from me just fucking you straight through the whole weekend," Sean's grin is infectious, and Norman ends up laughing, throwing the spoon at Sean's face.

The fucker ditches.


End file.
